Ava looks like this when she's typing on Mommy's computer while shouting the ABC song.
Ava looks like this when she's in a field of pumpkins with Moose.
Monday, October 23, 2006
But what does Ava look like now?
Ava looks like this when she's vacuuming.
Ava looks like this when she's typing on Mommy's computer while shouting the ABC song.
Ava looks like this when she's in a field of pumpkins with Moose.
Ava looks like this when she's typing on Mommy's computer while shouting the ABC song.
Ava looks like this when she's in a field of pumpkins with Moose.
Friday, October 06, 2006
How to care for your moose part 2 & 3
Part 2:
Make sure moose is properly seated in high chair and feed assorted colors of crayons
Part 3:
When moose is tired of eating crayons, make sure he has a proper seat at the table and gets a serving of french toast and yogurt.
The actual conversation this morning after you diapered and seated moose at the table:
"Moose wants french toast."
"Okay, does moose want a pink plate?"
"Pink plate."
"Moose needs fork."
Pause.
"Moose needs yogurt."
If you ever doubt I love you, please read this post.
Make sure moose is properly seated in high chair and feed assorted colors of crayons
Part 3:
When moose is tired of eating crayons, make sure he has a proper seat at the table and gets a serving of french toast and yogurt.
The actual conversation this morning after you diapered and seated moose at the table:
"Moose wants french toast."
"Okay, does moose want a pink plate?"
"Pink plate."
"Moose needs fork."
Pause.
"Moose needs yogurt."
If you ever doubt I love you, please read this post.
Thirty Months (or two and a half years)
Hi sweet girl,
You are officially two and a half years old, not almost two and a half, and old enough to not be just two anymore. Halves will become more important when you're in school but before you're 18. After that it's just not so important and sometimes you'll even forget how old you are. I went a whole year once thinking I was a year older.
But alas, I've stopped aging you in months, like a fine wine, you have graduated from months to years and fractions. You could have been two and quarter and you will be two and three quarter years old, but not twenty nine months or thirty four months.
You've graduated from the toddler bed you didn't sleep in to the full size murphy bed that has been at your nana's house since you were born. Suddenly you want to sleep in Ava's bed, likely because there is enough room for Mommy to lay down with you until you fall asleep. Some nights Mommy hops beds depending on who gives me more room - you or Daddy.
You are up to so many things these days, and even though it's 6:30AM you woke up early anyway and now you're sitting on my lap as I type. You're not awake enough to try and take over the keyboard but you likely will soon so I have to type fast.
"Mommy, what's that?" you ask me often, usually when you know what something is.
"I don't know Ava, what's that?" I respond.
"Kitty cat!"
"Yes, that's a kitty cat!"
We have lots of these conversations throughout the day.
I ask you often how many birds, how many cheerios, how many toys, and it doesn't matter how many there actually are, you count "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten" Sometimes you count up to eighteen, skipping a teen or two.
You have officially begun toilet training - you have gone pee pee in the big toilet (with your little toilet seat insert) three times. Three times we've actually heard pee pee hitting the water with a small but astounding, accomplished splash. The first time we weren't having such a good afternoon but at the sound of that I could have done cartwheels. Often you'll just sit there, and I'll ask, "Ava, where's the pee pee?"
You'll smile and say "no pee pee!" but you'll reach for toilet paper anyway and wipe.
You're starting to remember what happened a few hours ago or even the day before. We were camping over Labor Day and a tiny mouse scurried through our campground. "Mommy, I saw the mouse." I heard over and over again, especially in the tent where I was trying to get you to take a nap.
You like to grab your baby doll or one of your stuffed animals and lay a blanket over it on the kitchen floor. You lay down next to it and ask for a blankey. "Going night Mommy, I'm going night night."
Pronouns. There is now an I in your vocabulary, and a me, although I'm not sure if there is a you.
You know all of your colors, and pass all of my "what color is that?" quizzes. You're even starting to identify if an object is two colors now, like the frog at the aquarium that was green and black.
But alas, you are awake enough to want to type, and I smell the disaster in your diaper. When I go to change you, you'll say "Holy cow!" Which is exactly what I say when your diaper is a mess because I knew it would be better than if you went around saying "Holy ..." something else.
You are getting big, getting long, running fully into your amusing, delightful, challenging year of being two.
Do you know I love you? I hope so.
Mommy
You are officially two and a half years old, not almost two and a half, and old enough to not be just two anymore. Halves will become more important when you're in school but before you're 18. After that it's just not so important and sometimes you'll even forget how old you are. I went a whole year once thinking I was a year older.
But alas, I've stopped aging you in months, like a fine wine, you have graduated from months to years and fractions. You could have been two and quarter and you will be two and three quarter years old, but not twenty nine months or thirty four months.
You've graduated from the toddler bed you didn't sleep in to the full size murphy bed that has been at your nana's house since you were born. Suddenly you want to sleep in Ava's bed, likely because there is enough room for Mommy to lay down with you until you fall asleep. Some nights Mommy hops beds depending on who gives me more room - you or Daddy.
You are up to so many things these days, and even though it's 6:30AM you woke up early anyway and now you're sitting on my lap as I type. You're not awake enough to try and take over the keyboard but you likely will soon so I have to type fast.
"Mommy, what's that?" you ask me often, usually when you know what something is.
"I don't know Ava, what's that?" I respond.
"Kitty cat!"
"Yes, that's a kitty cat!"
We have lots of these conversations throughout the day.
I ask you often how many birds, how many cheerios, how many toys, and it doesn't matter how many there actually are, you count "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten" Sometimes you count up to eighteen, skipping a teen or two.
You have officially begun toilet training - you have gone pee pee in the big toilet (with your little toilet seat insert) three times. Three times we've actually heard pee pee hitting the water with a small but astounding, accomplished splash. The first time we weren't having such a good afternoon but at the sound of that I could have done cartwheels. Often you'll just sit there, and I'll ask, "Ava, where's the pee pee?"
You'll smile and say "no pee pee!" but you'll reach for toilet paper anyway and wipe.
You're starting to remember what happened a few hours ago or even the day before. We were camping over Labor Day and a tiny mouse scurried through our campground. "Mommy, I saw the mouse." I heard over and over again, especially in the tent where I was trying to get you to take a nap.
You like to grab your baby doll or one of your stuffed animals and lay a blanket over it on the kitchen floor. You lay down next to it and ask for a blankey. "Going night Mommy, I'm going night night."
Pronouns. There is now an I in your vocabulary, and a me, although I'm not sure if there is a you.
You know all of your colors, and pass all of my "what color is that?" quizzes. You're even starting to identify if an object is two colors now, like the frog at the aquarium that was green and black.
But alas, you are awake enough to want to type, and I smell the disaster in your diaper. When I go to change you, you'll say "Holy cow!" Which is exactly what I say when your diaper is a mess because I knew it would be better than if you went around saying "Holy ..." something else.
You are getting big, getting long, running fully into your amusing, delightful, challenging year of being two.
Do you know I love you? I hope so.
Mommy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)